


two aussie boyes have a fuckin easy going time

by ladyprincesspeach



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Junkers bein' pals, M/M, Not very canon, awful typed australian accent, but deep down he actually cares so its cute, junkrats a lil shit and roadhog has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyprincesspeach/pseuds/ladyprincesspeach
Summary: Junkrat's scatterbrained, but there is one thing he keeps in line: his sleep scedule. He heads to bed the exact same time every day.... Except once. Mako wonders what the problem could be...Can be read shippy or just like. Reaaaaaally close friends (I guess) (def meant to be shippy tho >:3c)Title by my friend Jacob





	two aussie boyes have a fuckin easy going time

**Author's Note:**

> Ayo so I'm posting this mainly because my friend Jacob likes it a lot and told me I should post it! I've written fanfic before, in the days of ye-olde SuperWhoLock (hhhh) but this is my first time writing anything Overwatch related (Altho I wrote this almost 6 months ago or more soo). Anywho, please keep in mind that I haven't yet practiced enough so!! Feel free to give that dank constructive critisism!
> 
> also. 
> 
> I'm so sorry about the australian accent I had tried to capture.  
> I'm very sorry.

The time was 2:37 AM exactly. Junkrat, per his usual fashion, unceremoniously leaped in to bed, his clothes somehow managing to fall to the floor and his half-naked body into the sheets at much the same time, continuing to mystify the other Junker regardless of the amount of times Junkrat has done it (which would be every night). Speaking of..

“You’re late,” Mako huffed, flipping over to face his new companion.

Junkrat fiddled with his mech arm, trying to take it off for sleeping. It seemed to be stuck. “Wot?”

“You’re 35 minutes late.”

Jamison remained silent for a minute, the only noises being Mako’s breathing and Jamison’s fight with his arm. “You goin’ crazy on me, finally, oldie? Knew this day would come. Didn’t think it’a be so soon though.” He finally pried his arm off, and he tossed it to the bedside table, moving now to start with his leg.

“You know what I mean.” Every single night, as if by some internal mechanism in the universe, Junkrat never failed to finish his work at 2:00 AM sharp, wash up quickly, and toss himself into bed by 2:02 AM. Well, except for twice. One time, was when he literally got trapped down there, accidentally getting his good arm caught in one of his bear traps while trying to fix it. Instead of getting help like any sane person would do (Mako was well aware that Jamison was no where near “any sane person”), he had decided to try and fix it himself. Or course, as soon as Mako had seen the duct tape around his forearm, he had known something was wrong and the jig was up. The other time was, and Roadhog could almost (almost, let's not get too serious here) laugh at the memory. 3:00 had rolled around and, despite not hearing a grand explosion, he had been worried the poor sap had managed to kill himself in his little ol tinkering room. Roadhog, a man of his word, who swore to protect Junkrat with his life, make his way downstairs, clad only in his tighty-whiteys. If he had to fend off any attackers, they'd have to see him half naked... Or at least, more naked than usual. Making his way down the stairs, cursing the creaking of his heavy steps, he swore he could hear noises coming from the room. As he got closer he stopped and listened, head tilted vaguely up.

Wait.

Roadhog quietly peered into the room, letting out a sigh at the sight. Jamison was asleep at his table, covered in soot and ash. He had, quite literally, worked himself to sleep. (Roadhog later found out that Junkrat had been heading to bed at the usual time, but waited until Mako had fallen asleep before sneaking back down to work on a secret gift for him. He said nothing about finding him that night, and nothing about the crudely knitted blanket adorned with a large pig-shaped patch on the top, although the fact that he slept with it even through the blazing hot Australian outback summers said enough).

So anyways, to say Mako was a bit worried was an understatement.

"I got no clue what you're talkin' about, mate." Junkrat slipped his leg off and laid it on the floor next to him before stretching his lithe arms up, the muscles on his back and shoulders straining, his joints and bones sticking at weird angles. With a yawn, Jamison lay down, hoping (but knowing it was not to be) that Mako would just forget about it and let him sleep.

Mako sighed, ran his hands down his scarred face, and rolled his eyes. "Jamison," he warned.

"Oi, me watch must be running a little late, 's all. Promise!" Jamison knew it was a lie. Mako knew it was a lie. Jamie knew that Mako knew that it was a lie. Mako knew that Jamie knew that he knew it was a lie. Jamie knew that Mako knew that-  
Anyways. They both knew it was a lie, not even a good one, like. Not even Jesus, floating down from the heavens on a chariot of antimatter, a chorus of etherial angels with simultaneously no faces, one face, and infinite faces, chanting in a language unable to be defined in this worldly sense, promising that Jamison Fawkes was telling the truth could have convinced Mako on this one.

"Jamison."

Jamie shifted a bit, his short arm over his face. "Alright, ya got me there, Roady. I dunnae why I thought I could pull a fast one on ya. I really did just lose track of-"

"Fawkes."

Junkrat paled a bit and sighed, kicking his legs indignantly. "Why don't you shut yer trap Oldie, I just dun wannae talk ab't it, mmkay?" He wondered if the temper tantrum strategy would work? Maybe he could bribe him. Or give him puppy dog eyes. Oh, or maybe-

Mako interrupted that important train of thought with a snort and he turned over, his back to Junkrat. He grumbled something the blond couldn't hear and, despite his better judgement, Jamie took the bait. "What was that, Roady? Me hearing ain't too good from all'em bombs."

"I said," a pause, while Roadhog took a breath. "I thought we were friends." The tone was sour and bitter, much like a lemon. Lemons were good though, this was just plain bad.

Silence - tense, drinkable silence - rolled through the air like water, suffocating Junkrat. Why was Mako so GOOD at that. He sat up, shaking Roadhog's massive shoulder. "I'm right sorry mate. Please don't hate me, y'know you're my best friend." He pouted and shook him until Mako sat up again, chuckling a bit.

"That line always works on you."

Junkrat groaned and socked him in the gut, pouting still. "You fat hunk'a junk, playin' me like yer the head chair violinist at the Fuckhead Orchestra and I'm yer violin. What a buncha rubbish, you are." He continued throwing punches, more playful than anything. "I can't believe you."

Mako pulled Junkrat in by his head, noogying him, watching stray ash and debris and sand fall from his hair. "About time you showered, ya smelly fucker."

"Aaaaaaawww, do I hafta?" Junkrat wined, trying to pry himself out of Roadhogs grip, settling to halfhearted slaps when he inevitably couldn't get him to budge.

" 'fraid so. Tomorrow morning. It's late." Speaking of late. He let go of Junkrat, watching the guy try to fix his hair, as if the state it had been in before the messing around hadn't been horrifying. "So. What were ya doing?"

Junkrat stopped pulling at a strand of hair (It just WOULDN'T stay down) and looked up at Mako, tilting his head a bit. "Oh, y'know. Workin'." Roadhog needed only to raise his eyebrow before Jamison was sighing, his good hand rubbing over the stump of his bad one. "I really don't wanna tell ya right now, Roady."

Mako hummed and hmmed, huhed and hummed some more. "Not an option," he finally said, a hint of amusement evident in his smirk, which just frustrated Jamie more.

"Yer a fuck'ead, you know that, right?"

"Yep."

"Oh- Well I mean-" Junkrat had nothing to say to that, and Mako huffed out a little laugh. "Ya really wanna know?" Roadhog nodded his approval. "I was. Makin' something." Mako was about to ask clarification when Junkrat went on. "Somethin' special. For you."

Mako's eyebrows knitted together and he wearily eyed the blanket draped over his knees. His nose wrinkled up as he spoke, "If it's as god-awfully ugly as that fucking blanket, I don't want it."

Junkrat huffed a laugh, a few giggles added a couple seconds later. "Nah this is... Special." He reached for his arm, so hastily discarded earlier, and started prying at a little compartment, trying to get the door open. "Y'see," he started, tilting the thing in different angles to try and get it open, but it was hard to with only one had. "I thought that - aye FUCK - " the arm slipped out of position, "that, uhh, that you have enough'a these to last more than a lifetime." Mako reached over to hold the arm for him while Jamie got it open, the other meeting his eyes with a small smile of thanks as he continued to talk, shielding Mako's eyes from the item inside. "But, y'know, I thought you might like this 'un because it's made by yours truly." He grabbed one of Mako's giant hands, flipping it so that it was palm up, his fingers outstretched, before he gently placed the small object in his hand. "Don't laugh or I'll really sock ya'. Knock some teeth out, it outta."

Mako brought his hand to his face and stared at the little metal object in his hand. It was a ring, the large, flat, square surface had been etched into with care, a rather crude but effective stick figure (or in Roadhog's case, Balloon figure) drawing of the two Junkers, the one meant to represent Roadhog with his hook, and Junkrat with his rip-tire.  
The inside of the ring was also etched, but this time it was words. "You hook 'em," he read out, smiling lightly to himself despite his attempted stoicism.

Junkrat held out another, noticeably smaller, ring. It was adorned with much the same drawing, but the inside was different. "And I'll cook 'em," Jamie finished, reading from the inside of his ring.

"Jamie..." Mako hadn't meant to use the nickname, but as he stared in awe at the craftsmanship, he couldn't help but use the name in a hushed tone.

"Oi, I told you not to laugh at me, big guy. Now, If you'll excuse me-"

Mako looked up from the ring. "No, Jamie." He put the ring on his right ring finger, his thumb spinning it around, testing how it felt. "I..." Mako, as a man, was good at a lot of things. Many things, actually. Showing gratitude was decidedly not one of them.

Jamison took it upon himself to surge forward and hug Mako as best he could with one and a half arms (even with three he probably couldn't get his arms to go all the way around), pressing his face into you shoulder. "You're welcome, ya big dingo." Mako hugged him back, and for a moment they sat there, Mako still, y'know, feeling emotion and stuff. Then, as fate seems to always have it, Jamie was, well, Jamie. "Ya sure ya don't hate it or anythin'? I mean, I'd totally get that, it's kind of a dumb thing when ya think about it-"

The sound of Mako laughing a loud, deep, belly laugh cut Jamie off before he could prattle on, and he grabbed Jamie's hands in his own. "I love it, Jamie," he assured.

"Aw, now ya gone and done it, haven't ya?" Junkrat sniffed and tears welled up in his eyes. "I love you ya giant hunk 'a junk." He threw his arms around Mako's neck, always the dramatic one, crying a bit while Roadhog patted him on the back.

"I love ya, too."


End file.
